


Superposition

by Splintered_Star



Series: convergence [2]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Mental Health Issues, POV Multiple, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, informed by tlj but not canon with it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-04
Updated: 2018-01-04
Packaged: 2019-02-28 00:49:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13260117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Splintered_Star/pseuds/Splintered_Star
Summary: Loose ends and second chances.Epilogue to Iterative Processing





	Superposition

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my excellent beta, nenya85, who has been invaluable this entire time; silenciadelumbrae, the best cheerleader I could ask for; ktula, whose insight made this fic much stronger. 
> 
> I am not a romance writer, but I tried.

General Armitage Elan Hux lets out a breath and sets the blaster down on his desk. Almost absently, he stops the deletion of his professional data. The data for Elusion continues to burn.

An alert goes up: Resistance ships sighted.  

General Hux taps out an acknowledgment on his data pad, and rises to go to the bridge.

 

 

Leia makes the report without flourish, since most of the people in the room have heard by now: The Finalizer has been taken. General Hux surrendered peacefully and without engagement. No casualties on either side.

A hand in the corner of the room goes up, and Leia nods in acknowledgement.

"Are you sure it's him?" Attention focuses on the speaker. Phasma takes every eye on her easily, not moving from her spot in the back of the room. Leia raises her eyebrows at the comment, but there is muttering in the room. Phasma does not roll her eyes but Leia knows that she wants to.

"Why do you ask?" Leia asks, for the show of it.

Phasma does not look down or away. Her posture is rock solid and her confidence is unshakable. "General Hux does not surrender, much less peacefully.” More muttering, and this time there is a flicker of annoyance at the corner of her eyes. "With all due respect General, I have seen him refuse to tap out of a spar until he had a dislocated shoulder on multiple occasions. He regularly stood his ground against High Command if he thought he had a better solution. Once, Kylo Ren strangled him with the Force, and Hux was spitting insults and mockery until he hit the floor." Silence in the hall. "So I ask again: are you sure it's him?"

Leia inclines her head. "We've compared his DNA against our records and the Order's and checked for any signs of cloning. His provided access codes and retina scan function perfectly, and his knowledge of Order procedure is perfect. That being said, our psych profile also indicates that his behavior is... unprecedented. We're still working on the discrepancies."

"Do you think it's a trap?" Admiral Akbar asks, glancing between Leia and Phasma.

"If it is, it's not his normal style." Phasma concedes, grudging, crossing her arms and frowning. "He wouldn't offer himself up as a martyr for anyone. And a body double would be more actively buying for time."

"Nevertheless, it is notable." Leia says. "Which is why, incidentally, he will be remaining in the high security cells until we know more of what's going on. Captain, talk to the psych team and see if there's anything about him that we've missed."

Leia has her own suspicions, but she doesn't have anything resembling proof or the time to gather it. So when the meeting is over and everyone is shuffling out, she says, "Dameron, speak with me in my office."

 

 

 

"Yes ma'am?" Poe says, bright eyed. One hand taps out a quick pattern on his knee, a fidget he's never managed to break. "What can I do for you?"

"This will be a somewhat non-conventional mission, and should be kept quiet. Are you willing to accept that?"

Poe grins. All of his best missions start out that way. "Yes ma'am!"

Leia does not smile back. "You remember that you were ready to do an extraction for Elusion if necessary?"

Poe nods, and then frowns. “Yeah, but we assumed they were on the Finalizer.” The ship’s capture and processing had taken up all spare administrators, plus any trustworthy defectors who could help interpret findings.

“We did, and I am still certain that is the case. However, they have not come forward and identified themselves.”

Poe pulls a disbelieving face. “Wait, seriously? Why?” Leia inclines her head.

"We don’t know. There were no casualties from the Finalizer, and all members are accounted for. Elusion's comm has gone dead and there is no tracker. So. Your mission is to, if at all possible, determine the identity of our spy. If they need an extraction provide one. If not, well, I would appreciate knowing why they've kept their silence, but if you consider them trustworthy you can leave it at that. Let me know if you need to go off planet. Otherwise, regular reports."

Poe nods, less fidgety now that he has a problem to solve. "Yes ma'am."

He pauses, half way out of the door, and swallows. “Ma’am, have you had the chance to talk to-” He stops himself before saying one name and can’t make himself say the other one, but she knows what he means.  

Leia’s expression is sympathetic, and Poe’s shoulders drop. He can already guess the answer.

“I’m sorry, Poe. He said he doesn’t want to see you. I’ll let you know if it changes.”

That’s worse than “the doctors said no.” But Poe just nods his thanks, and ducks out of the room.

 

 

Leia takes a deep breath, closes out of all of her accounts and removes any sensitive information from her person. There’s little point to mental shielding, but she checks it anyway.

Then she pushes up from her desk and walks to the secure medical ward.

 

 

She slides into the seat across from the man. He glances at her, and then his vision skitters away. He lets it.

"This is about the war," she says before anything else. She admits, at least some of the time, when she comes to him looking for information. It is new, this honesty from her. He thinks it is new. "But it isn't pressing. The doctor said you didn't take your painkillers earlier."

The man's lip curls, just a little. It is not a smile. He hates the painkillers. He hates how fuzzy they make him feel, how they dull the senses he still has left to him. How they don't take away the suffering but do take away the distractions.

The man does not say any of this. Words smear in his mouth when he tries to speak on some days, and he cannot stand the sting of embarrassment. There is so little to shield him from it.

"If you don't want to hear about it, let me know." The man looks at her, his brows furrowed, his eyes narrowed. He does not understand. "I am interested in your opinion, but it's not something that I need to know right away."

He wants to check. He wants to pry her apart and understand what she means, what she feels, why he's here, why he isn't dead. He wants to -

\- his mind snaps back on itself, pain searing along shorted out synapses -

The man winces, gritting his teeth to keep from crying out. His fingers clench on the side of the chair.

Instinct. Still instinct. His Master is dead and he is broken, but the instincts remain.

He never did learn anything.

The woman does not jump from her chair like she did the first time this happened. She does not touch his shoulder, ask if he's all right and call him a name he does not know how to respond to.  She waits for him to weather the burn, for his breathing to steady and for his fingers to relax.

She does learn things.

"Do you want to hear about it?" He swallows. Manages to nod. “All right. The Finalizer was captured two days ago.” The man straightens in his seat, surprise and a concern he cannot name jolting through him. “No casualties. General Hux surrendered willingly and only requested that his crew not be harmed.”

The man stares. He does not know what his face is doing, only that it exposes too much, displays emotions he cannot identify. He misses his mask like an amputated limb.

The woman across from him inclines her head. She smiles very faintly but he cannot understand what it means, and the burning in his mind is too strong for him to dare check.

“Yes, you’re not the only person to be surprised. As far as we can tell, it is really him. However, the reason I came here today… Your rooms were completely untouched.” The man stares at her, trying to make sense of – anything. “Luke is studying the Sith artifacts. He may come by with questions. He is planning on returning Vader’s skull to Endor.” The man feels his face shift. Anger, he thinks he feels, but he does not know.  It does not feel the same as before but then again, nothing does. “But he has offered to… bring it to you, first.”

He thinks that the woman’s expression means that she is displeased with this, but he cannot tell. She was always displeased with any reference to her father before. “Is there anything else from your rooms that you want to keep?”

The man blinks at her, not sure why she is offering. He strains his foggy memory to remember what else he had in those rooms. Not much. Physical comforts were a distraction, his Master had taught him, meaningless things only needed by the weak. The only things that mattered are in Skywalker’s hands or lost for good.

He shakes his head. The woman nods, and moves to stand. “All right. Thank you for letting me know. I’ll let you rest.”

The man stares down at his hands, and does not watch her leave.

 

 

"Ma'am? Do you have a bit of time free?" Poe's face is concerned, confused. Leia smiles thinly and nods, waving him in.

"I do. What have you found?"

"Okay. So. I talked to the techie who'd been in contact with Elusion, caught up and all, and then - okay." Poe's unsettled. Leia would be able to tell that through the Force, but doesn't need to - his disorganized train of thought is enough. "Start over. I wanted to see if I could track down when Ren was last on the Finalizer, right? I spoke to Elusion right as that was happening, and from what they said it was pretty clear they had Ren right there nearby. So I figured if I could figure out who was around or observing Ren at that moment, I'd get a clue. Follow?” Leia nods. "So, I talked to Kai, and they were able to pull the security footage from the hanger. I've got it on my 'pad, let me...."

Leia watches the footage, Poe leaning in close to share the datapad.

On the screen, General Hux and Kylo Ren argue. Ren is agitated. Reading someone through the force is harder when they're on a screen, or through a vocoder, but it can be done, and Kylo Ren is angry and afraid and desperate.

"See," Poe says, gesturing with one hand. "I was able to translate the time to our local time, right? This is right when you guys were really hammering the Citadel. I'm guessing Ren could feel it and knew he had to get over there? This is where it gets, yeah."

Hux gestures to the Silencer, and the two enter it. Nothing happens for several minutes, until General Hux emerges alone and the ship begins to launch. Hux stands and watches it go.  Poe pauses the vid.

"Okay, while they were in there - look." Poe turns in his chair, gesturing with both hands in front of him. "I double checked the timing. Snoke was killed while they were in there, and you and Luke both said that Ren getting knocked flat would have happened instantaneously, right?" Leia nods again. "So Ren was out of commission before Hux left that ship. And that's not all. I checked my report too and I talked with Elusion while they were on the ship." Poe drags a hand through his hair. It's more of a mess than usual.

"Ma'am, I double checked everything I could. There was nobody else on that ship. No internal cameras. Nobody had access to Ren. Nobody would be able to make the report that I received from Elusion." He visibly swallows, gestures with a hand to the video. "Except for him."

Leia is silent for a moment. She goes back in the footage, and watches Hux watch the ship leave.

Hux has incredible mental shielding. Even in person it is difficult for her to get any true impression of his feelings. Only certain things that cannot be hidden show through, most of the time.

On the screen, Hux's normally impeccable shielding cracks and emotions nearly indisguishable in their intensity leak through.  Like a crack in a reactor core, or a sliver of sunlight in a dark room, they are blinding and impossible to understand.

She closes the footage, and lets out a heavy breath.

"....You don't seem surprised, ma'am."

Leia inclines her head.  At this point, Poe deserves know of her suspicions.

“When I spoke to Elusion, I insisted on a voice call for a reason. There are things that I can tell through a vocoder that I cannot tell through a transcript. One of the things I can tell is…” she pauses here. One of the things she hates about the force is the difficulty in translating it into normal language. “Everyone has a sort of signature in the Force.  A sense of who they are.” Poe nods, accepting it easily. “When I spoke to Elusion, I noticed something – unusual. Distinctive. “

She’s talked to Luke about, since, when they both had time – it is a sort of layering, or an echo. Not multiple people in one soul, like she noticed too late in her son – but the same person, repeated. Luke had no answers, either, and little time to look for them. Her son takes up most of his free time, now.

“I’d never seen anything like it….” She nods towards the datapad. “Until Hux turned himself in and I met him in person.”

Poe is silent for a moment. Then: “Well, fuck. Er, sorry ma’am.”

Leia smirks, amused, and then lets the expression drop. “I wanted to see if you came to the same conclusion independently before pursuing it further.” She smirks again, more bitter this time. “For better or worse, the Force is not accepted in most courts.”

Poe runs a hand through his hair. “Fair enough. Okay. Do you still want me to -” He gestures with one hand to the datapad. She waits for a moment, watching his thoughts tumble around. “I mean. If he’s Elusion, then he shouldn’t be sitting in jail. All the stuff he did to take down the Order would – I mean, I don’t know if it would sway the Senate to let him off scot free but he’d definitely – they’ve let stormtroopers go without restrictions, right? Even Phasma.”

Leia’s not really surprised at the course Poe’s thoughts have taken, but has to add: “Yes. Stormtroopers. They’re still debating what is to be done with officers, even those who have officially defected and have given useful information.”

“And since he hasn’t come forward – why not? Might not think anyone would believe him, I mean. I wouldn’t have, so.” Poe nods. “Permission to find proof, ma’am?”

Leia suspects there’s more to Elusion’s reasons than that, but nods. “Granted.”

 

 

 

"Hello." Skywalker says, softly. The man does not respond. These visits are worse than those from the General. "How are you feeling today?" The man shrugs. It is not any kind of response.

“I went through your room on the Finalizer.” The man feels his shoulders tighten, his expression change, but he doesn’t speak. “Is there anything you’d like to keep from there?” The man looks up and stares at the box Skywalker carried in with him. He sees Skywalker smile awkwardly, almost apologetic, but he’s not sure. “Besides this, I’m afraid.”

The only thing he would claim denied him. Of course.

“….No.” The man says. Words come when he calls, at least for now. He reaches for the box. He knows what’s in it.

Skywalker nods, and sets gently Vader’s skull on the table. The man’s eyes track over it, the visage more familiar than his own face. He’s made only one request of his keepers – no mirrors.

The man looks down at the skull and tries to feel - anything, anger or guilt or grief or /anything/ - something in the Force, the warmth of familiarity, of acceptance, the certainty that this is his by right, that he is precisely what he is supposed to be -

-but there is nothing except for the echoing emptiness in his head, the sound of his own breathing,  nothing except for the gaping wound where his purpose once was –

Once, when he was wounded in training, Snoke told him: make it worse. Dig your fingers into the wound and rip it open – swallow the pain, his master taught him, chase it and it will make you stronger, pain is the only thing that will unlock true power –

It’s instinct now, habit, to dig into the wounds, even if the wounds are inside of his own head – his power responds to him here and nowhere else, he cannot touch other’s minds but he can touch his own – it hurts, it hurts and his eyes /ache/ and it’s a distraction from the echoing emptiness inside of him -

"Ben!"

The man snaps up, his teeth barred. Rage floods him for a moment and he welcomes the sensation of drowning.

"Don't call me that."

"I - I'm sorry." The man can't tell if Skywalker is lying, he can't tell anything, nothing makes sense anymore, the pain is fading and no power comes when he calls. "I am sorry for... a lot of things.” The Jedi swallows. “I was not the teacher, or the family you deserved. I – want to help you. I thought this would help.”

The man doesn’t respond. The flood of rage is gone and he is once an empty vessel with nothing to fill it, an engine with no fuel. Even the pain has faded. The world once more loses its definition.

“He… meant different things to you, then he did to me.” The man snorts, looking away. “I should have tried to understand that better, then. You – don’t have to tell me now, or ever, but if you would like to tell me, I will listen.”

The man looks up. Skywalker looks – he still cannot tell. He does not know what the right answer is. He cannot care enough to fight back, or even to hurt. He looks away again.

“….maybe.” 

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Skywalker smile. The metal hand comes up, as if to touch his shoulder – and then the smile shifts, and the hand falls. Skywalker nods, and leaves without saying anything else.

 

 

 

Poe pulls out every scrap of data on Elusion that exists, and then gets deeper. He pulls the Finalizer’s financial reports and cross references it with Elusion’s known funding – after a comment in passing by one of the officers, he gets some judicial records as well, which makes the math work out better but does make Poe pull some weird expressions.

Clever, but ruthless. Whether that’s a point in the pro or con columns he’s not sure, and it’s mild enough as far as wartime actions go, but, still.

Then he pulls the casualty lists from Starkiller, pauses, and then double checks them. Then he digs through who, precisely, would be able to alter the schedules like that, and, perhaps more importantly, who actually is recorded as doing so. The answer is the same either way, and there’s a perfectly reasonable justification on the file, but….

A few more bits of data go into the report, and Poe’s confident enough – despite his unexpected conclusion, and hell if he isn’t still processing some of it – to hand it over to General Organa.

 

 

 

The man does not know why he is being indulged in this request. The General - he cannot call her anything else, not yet and perhaps not ever - merely met his eyes and nodded, once.

She walks him to the door. He suspects he's being used to fish for information. Maybe to force a reaction out of him, or the other.

The man does not trust her, and knows that she knows this.

But the emptiness in his head echoes and aches. He has no god and no master, no anchors and no drive. He allows her to chain him because it is better than floating off into space alone.

He knows that she knows this, too.

 

The man enters the cell and pauses, staring.

The occupant is not restrained. He is not lovely, in the way the man has always heard the word used, but he is striking yet: sharp features, bright hair, posture like a drawn weapon. He does not look defeated. Then again, he never did.

"Hello."  A pause, and Hux tilts his head. "Do you prefer Kylo or Ben?"

If it were anyone else, he would think they were mocking him, that they know his secrets. If it were before, he would assume Hux were sarcastically humoring him. But it was not anyone else and it was not before, and there is no sarcasm in Hux's voice now. And so the man answers.

"....haven't decided yet."

Hux nods, accepting that without another word. 

"....Snoke is dead." The man says into the silence. Hux nods, once, and does not look surprised.

"I had suspected so."  The man waits for an insult, for words like the point of a blade at his throat - so weak without a master that you ran back to your old owner, then? - but it does not come.

The man does not know how he feels about that.

In his shattered memories, Hux is the exemplar of the Order, flawlessly loyal and passionate about his cause. In his memories, Hux is formed of steel and pure kyber, unbreakable, unmovable. Hux has always been reliable, the stable foundation, the firm place to set his feet.

The man came to this room looking for a signpost in the fog that fills his universe. He came looking for something he knew to brace himself against, a definition spoken in a language he understood.

There are no signposts in this fog, nothing familiar for him to take comfort in. Everything he knew is warped beyond recognition, and every handhold slips from his grasp.  He has fallen through a shattered mirror and there is no way back.

He does not know if his Master’s death warped all sightlines into this twisted mess, or revealed it to be what it truly was. The answer matters, but he cannot find it. He cannot find anything that matters.

The man turns and walks away without another word.

 

 

 

Poe sits himself down in one of the chairs. General Organa takes the chair next to him. Across the table, General Armitage Fucking Hux watches them with an expression of polite confusion.

“Can I help you?”

Leia smiles, politic perfect. “Hello. While I am very grateful for how cooperative you have been so far, there are a few oddities that I’d like to discuss with you.” No reaction on the guy’s face. Poe’s watching, because /usually/ Leia takes up everyone’s attention, usually no one notices the assistant, but Poe’s getting the feeling that he’s not as invisible as he normally is at these things.

“I am, as you may be aware, somewhat Force sensitive. Not as much as my brother or, indeed, my father, but it does come in useful sometimes. Things likes being able to tell if someone is lying to me, or if they’re hiding something from me.” Leia – sure, she’s technically General Organa right now, but Poe only rarely manages to remember that she’s not Aunt Leia – smiles very faintly. “I can also recognize people through how they feel in the Force, especially if there’s something distinctive about it.  Even if they’re using a mask, or, for instance, a vocoder.”

Hux goes very still for just a second, the lines around his eyes going tight. If Poe hadn’t been watching the guy, he might have missed it.

“I am sure that must be very useful, General, but I’m not sure why you’re telling me this.”

“One our agents during the war used the codename Elusion; I’ve been told they were quite infamous, even within the Order.” No reaction from Hux. Hell of a sabbac face on this guy, but then again, spy. “I spoke to them once, and when I did so, I noticed something unusual in their Force signature, which I didn’t see in anyone else…. Until you turned yourself in.”

Something in his expression cools, hardens like abandoned custard. The polite mask is gone.

“A Force impression is not considered proof, especially to the Galactic Senate.”

“True,” Leia says, while Poe blinks. “Which is why Dameron has assembled a report covering all of Elusion’s activities and the corresponding evidence of your involvement.” She folds her hands placidly. “Somewhat circumstantial in places, but I think it will stand up.”  

“You’re bluffing.” Pale eyes flicker between Poe and Leia. He looks like a spooked cat, and Poe doesn’t fucking get it. “There is no evidence.”

Well, there’s the snarling, contrary ass the pysch profile predicted, but Poe’s too damn confused to be glad about it.

“On the contrary,” she says, flipping through files on her datapad. Eventually, she slides it across the table. “Watch this.”

Hux takes the datapad, eyes narrowed at it.

“That is security footage we pulled from the Finalizer’s cameras. It also the last time Kylo Ren was seen on the Finalizer.” Again, a stillness barely long enough to breathe. “It was taken at the same time as our attack on Snoke’s Citadel. You are seen entering the Silencer with him. There were no active cameras or transmitters in the ship, other than ones the two of you carried with you. While the two of you are in the ship, Snoke is killed and Elusion gives a very accurate and specific account of Ren’s state at that moment. You leave the ship alone and it launches, via remote control according to the ship’s records.”

Hux lets out a breath and sets the datapad down on the table. His face is steel.

“There are other things, more loosely connected, but the fact remains that no one could have made that report, at that moment, except for you.”

“I’ll deny it to all officials.” Hux speaks, rapidfire like a machine gun. “Can you afford that sort of blow to your reputation right now? Don’t you think a scandal like that will hinder your efforts to integrate the outer rim? “

”But why?” Poe blurts out, unable to help himself. He shoots Leia an apologetic look but she waves at him to continue. “Why don’t you want to,” he pauses, thinks about what he’s learned about the Order from Finn. “Look, if you’re worried about reprisals from the Order, we can protect you from them-”

“Don’t /insult/ me, Dameron.” Hux snarls, still staring Leia down. “I don’t need or desire your /protection/.” He says the word like a curse.

“Well, then what the hell is the problem? If we hadn’t caught this, would have just – not said anything and sat in fucking prison for the rest of your life?”

Hux finally looks over and meets his eyes, cold as space.

“/Yes/. That is why I turned myself in instead of swallowing a blaster bolt like I had /planned/.”

-what?

“Your trooper friend is going to spend the rest of his life dealing with the effects of my program, Dameron.” Hux hisses, leaning forward. “Don’t you think he deserves /justice/?”

Leia – Force bless her – cuts in.

“He does, as does everyone else who has been harmed by the Order.” She smiles and it looks like a thrown ace. “They also deserve to make that judgement in full possession of the facts. Unless you don’t trust them to make the ‘correct’ choice?”

Hux’s face blanks, and then snarls up like a caught gear train. Leia isn’t finished.

“No one knows the inner workings of the Order like you. No one knows the territories like you. If you feel the need to atone, then do it by helping us bring stability to the outer Rim. Pay your debts by continuing to work, not by stopping.”

Hux’s jaw works. Eventually, he mutters, “Fine,” like he’s resentful about it. “Nevertheless,”

“Your involvement will be kept on a need to know basis until it’s through the Senate, of course.” Leia says, brightly. “And while the information will be in the public record, we can make sure there’s as little fuss as possible.”

Hux glares, but nods.

Poe decides to call it a victory.

 

 

The thing is, Poe figures after all the official stuff is done and Leia promises to talk to various officials herself - the thing is, Poe’s mission is over now. He’s identified his target and gotten the info he was sent out for. There’s no reason for him to be involved with Hux whatsoever. Except….

Except, Poe keeps seeing in his head the way Hux had snarled at him that he’d planned on killing himself but decided to turn himself in instead. He deserved to face justice, he’d said.

And he knows the guy’ll probably reject it out of hand, but Poe just wants to… fix the damage that the Order has done to the guy. He can’t help it, he cares about people, wants to help them.  It’s what he does. He's making progress on Finn, and he probably doesn't need another project, but...

Hux saved his life too, that day, but that’s more of an excuse than a reason.

Leia smiles knowingly at him from across the desk. "I'll put out the reports, and find a subtle way to spread the word.” He nods along. "Feel free to drop a few hints, but don't make it too obvious. Let gossip run for a few days and take the sting out of the announcement."

"Good idea." And that's why she's the boss. "In the meantime, what do you want me to do?" He's smiling, because he's pretty damn sure he knows the answer already, but...

"Well, since you've shown so much skill at integrating Stormtroopers into Alliance life..." Poe grins, tapping out a pattern on his leg in anticipation. "I suspect he's going to be. Hm. More of a challenge than Finn, but if you're willing, you're welcome to it."

Poe salutes, and it's only a little joking. "Glad to, ma'am. Anything else?" Leia shakes her head, and so Poe leaves, plans already in his mind.

 

 

 

There’s muttering around the base that Elusion finally came forward. Was found. Rumors go either way. Nobody’s saying /who/ it is, and the betting pool is pretty intense, but, well.

Kai grins behind their shield mask. They could hack into the systems and find out, but that would be rude - /and/ less fun.

The one bit of official news is that former General Hux has been let out of his cell, and was gonna be wandering around the garages to answer questions about the ships. Being useful, and all that. Actually, speaking of….

Kai waves him over – hey, that’s Dameron lingerin’ nearby, there’s one hell of a data point… Kai still remembers pulling security footage off of the Finalizer and Dameron lookin’ spooked over it.

Hux – damn, he is as tall as he looks in the photos – stops just out of the roughly designated “work space” and inclines his head in acknowledgement. “Hello. I’ve been told you’re involved in processing the Finalizer’s computer systems.”

Kai flips up their mask and grins up at him. “Well, ya know, I’ve probably missed a lot, seein’ as I never did learn proper.” They’ve gotten more than a little bit of cheek from the officers and engineer corps so far, who think they’re unqualified to be anywhere near the Finalizer, much less be involved in tearing apart anything that came off of it. And Hux spent more time on that ship than he did planet bound, as far as anyone could tell.

But Hux doesn’t respond to the bait. “What questions do you have?”

“Well, if someone were to, say…” Kai leans against a work table, pausing half a second to brush cat hair off of it, and gestures vaguely with their unlit laser cutter. “Transfer messages out of Order controlled space without being tracked, how’d ya think they’d do it? Theoretically, of course.”

His expression doesn’t shift much, ‘course, but Kai thinks there’s something pleased in the corner of those cold eyes. What Kai can see of them without craning their neck, anyway

“Well, if this someone happened to be intimately familiar with the networks and security protocols of the Order systems... It would be possible to bounce the message between a randomized sequence of outposts, potentially hidden in the metadata. Longer transmissions and in real time communication might need more power than the metadata could disguise, but then again, If someone were…. Sufficiently familiar with the networks, it would be possible to allocate power from several sources and disguise it as excesses in other areas.” A beat, and Hux inclines his head. He’s smirking, very faintly. “Theoretically.”

Kai grins. “El, you’re a sneaky fucker.”

Hux smiles back, smug as anything and totally unrepentant.

“What gave it away?” Hux asks, stepping into Kai’s work space and glancing over the tools and scrap generated from the tie fighter Kai’s currently tearing apart to relax. Can’t spend all their time data diving. “Also, the solar panels on the wings are designed to be removed from the back, so if you intend to maximize useable materials take the wings off before trying to remove the panels.”

“Fuckin’ really? That explains a lot…” Kai takes a step back and stares at the tie, rearranging their plan in their head. “And Starkiller was your life’s work. No engineer’s that chill about their baby getting trashed unless they did it themselves.” Kai glances over their shoulder at Hux. “Speaking of, I’ve been wondering. Bombs on the internal supports?”

Hux shakes his head. “Overloaded the gravity generators.”

“/Nice/. Hell of a lot cleaner.” No need to plant explosives, either. Kai gestures with an unlit laser cutter. “Is it official, yet?”

Hux shakes his head. “Not quite yet, so if you could…”

Kai snickers. “Yeah, I can keep from rubbing it anyone’s faces for a bit. Ya wanna help me get these wings off, then?”

“Certainly.”

 

 

 

So, the news is officially announced, admittedly in the most subtle way that the General could manage. A single line in the daily report. Practically an “oh by the way”.

News still exploded, because of course it did, but when Hux enters the cafeteria there’s no shouting. Just a dead silence, and then a wave of whispers through the room.

Honestly, it might just be complaining that no one won the betting pool, but Poe isn’t sure.

Hux ignores the stares and the muttering like a champ. It’s not the first time he’s been out on his own, they made sure of that, but it is the first time since the news broke. Poe wanted to – hell, he still wants to – sit with him, introduce him to people, ease the process. Be a buffer, like he was for Finn at first, but Hux refused. So Poe is just gonna watch from a distance. Just in case.  

(He should check up with Finn. He’s been so busy with this, and Finn with the troopers…)

Before the whispers can break into action, Phasma stomps up to Hux and crosses her arms. "Traitor." The room goes silent, and Poe tenses in his seat.

Hux just raises his eyebrows. "Same to you."

She draws herself up to her full height, which is damn tall. "We could have worked together, you asshole." Hux huffs in surprise, and goddamn it, he's actually smiling a little and it doesn't look like he's about to rip someone's throat out. Who knew /that/ was possible. "I spent three weeks finding a way around /your/ security protocols." She gestures irritably with one hand.

"If it makes you feel better, you were very successful. I found out about the defections at the same time as everyone else." He smirks, and looks more relaxed than Poe's ever seen him. "Quite impressive, really. Well done."

Phasma snorts, and hell, but she looks more relaxed than usual too. "Arrogant bastard." She smirks like it's a compliment, and Hux inclines his head like he agrees.  Wow, Poe has /definitely/ been on the wrong track with the whole friendliness thing. "Your father would be horrified."

Hux's smile widens into a full grin, and yeah, okay, /now/ he looks like he's about to murder someone. "Yes. Isn't it delightful?"

Phasma snorts a laugh. "I want the full story out of you one of these days."

"Of course. Join me?”

Phasma settles next to him at the table, and the two of them look like one hell of a united force. They… probably can handle themselves, so Poe shrugs, and decides to see if he can track down Finn.

 

 

 

The General tells him, quiet and calm, as if she has not shattered his world again. As if the words she said with no preamble were meaningless, as unimportant as updates on the course of the war or about his uncle.

“Hux is Elusion. He saved you.”

The words drop into his mind and shatter him, glass shards scattering under the impact and digging into the inside of his skull.

He saved you, he saved you, he saved you – it echoes in the space that was supposed to be filled up with his master, that was should have been thrumming with purpose and destiny and –

“I want to see him.” The words tumble out of the empty place inside of his head, drip out of his mouth like blood.  

The General looks at him, and he doesn’t know what she sees, and it doesn’t matter, because it’s still echoing on the inside of his head - he saved you, he saved you, he /saved/ you – and she nods, once, and stands.

He is not led to the same room as before. It doesn’t matter. The man’s head spins, pounds, bleeds with shattered glass, his vision is blurred out –

He enters the room, and Hux – Elusion - /Hux/ looks up.

“Ah. They told you, then.”

“You killed him.” The words tumble out because today he doesn’t have to reach for them, they simply burst from his lips and splatter on the ground between them.

“I told the Resistance where-” Hux starts.

“/You killed him/.”

Hux pauses, and then inclines his head. “Very well. I did.” Another pause. The man is trembling, teeth tightened almost to cracking.  There is something on Hux’s face the man cannot begin to read. “It had to be done.”

The man does not argue. That is not what snarls in his mind, that is not what matters – he’s always known Hux to be ambitious –

“You killed him and gave me to the Resistance.” The man does not know what his voice is doing, does not know what his face is doing, everything feels flat flat flat – flat and empty and echoing like the inside of his head, like the fog he lives in now –

“You – you were injured, it was the only-“

“I nearly died.” Again, that twist to Hux’s face that the man cannot read. “I would have died. Why didn’t you let me die?”  

Hux stares at him, mouth open. The man cannot even enjoy catching Hux off guard. He pulls on his own too-long hair.

“Everything is – nothing feels right, nothing makes sense anymore, everything is too quiet and too loud and-” he digs his hand into his arm, cherishing the pain. “and I’m /alone/ inside and I –I could have died.“

He’s too close, suddenly, his hands on the table between them, leaning over Hux as if that ever made a difference -

“Why didn’t you /let me die/?” the man tries to snarl, but it comes out weak, comes out quiet, because this is who he is without his master. “Was it revenge? Did you want me to suffer?”

"Because I didn't /want/ you to die!” Hux shouts, standing, his words echoing through the room and the empty spaces in the man’s head.  “I wanted you to be as safe as I could fucking make you! Maybe it was selfish of me, but I wanted that one void damned thing!” Hux’s posture drops, droops, and for the first time he is not a blaster primed, he is not a blade drawn. “I’m sorry if that wasn’t enough.”  

The man stares, all his words turning to ash in his mouth.  

(He'd held his feelings for Hux like a burning coal in his hand, cradling it close and cherishing the pain, and never once thought that Hux might love him /back/.)

He reaches forward, the movement jerking and sudden, grabbing Hux's hand. Bare skin against bare skin, and he stares down at their hands. Hazy memories swim in front of his mind like smoke.

The man mumbles. "....thought I dreamed that."

In the corner of his vision, Hux smiles as if embarrassed. "...I didn't expect you to remember." Hux wraps his other hand around, and he feels warm. Skin to skin, the Force hums like it always has, like he is as whole and undamaged as he ever was – skin to skin, and the man can feel the desperate sweet ache as clearly as if it is his own. Is it his own? No, no, it tastes like grief and longing and a wistfulness he has never known, laced with the memory of staring down at his own face and wanting nothing more than to stay. “I… didn’t think I would ever see you again. I am sorry I couldn’t stay.”

Hux rubs his thumb across their joined fingers. The man lets him, breathing in the bittersweet longing thrumming through both of them. Hux tugs their joined hands close, and presses his lips to the man’s knuckles.

“Now… I can stay, if you would have me.”

The man looks up and all he can do is nod yes, please, yes.

 

 

 

Leia books an appointment with Hux, whose time is in demand now, even though she could just show up. But she does have /manners/, and also she wants to make sure they won’t be interrupted. So she goes, and settles into the chair across from him, unaccompanied by any guards.

“I have a question.” Hux nods. He’s been even more helpful once his official status went through. “It’s not about the war, or not directly. It’s about my son, among other things.” Here, he tenses very slightly, and she almost wants to tease him.

She’s not blind, despite her age. She was watching when her son shouted and then stopped shouting. She saw the look on their faces, the way they touched. She’ll talk about that, but first.

“You knew that killing Snoke would damage his mind. I’d suspected it, but you were certain. How?” She folds her hands in her lap. “Likewise, Rey’s existence and her strength in the Force. Not even she knew she was force sensitive, but you did.”

Hux meets her eyes, and she thinks he knows the significance of it.

"Would you believe me?" He says, like she isn't supposed to recognize it for the challenge it is. But she does, so she just smirks.

"Are you willing to find out?"

There, the man almost smirks, a glimmer of his buried personality. It'll be interesting to find out who he is underneath what he thinks he's supposed to be, she decides. Then he lets out a breath, and she has the impression in the Force of fidgeting, tapping his fingers and mussing his hair, even as none of it comes out in his physical presence. Almost impressive.

What he does do is tilt his head back for a long moment. She watches as thoughts are slotted into arrangements and then moved, though his shields are too good to tell what any of them are.

“Will this be on the record, General?”

Leia smirks a bit wider. “No, I don’t see why I should be.”

“I have had several people ask me, since my involvement was announced, why I decided to betray everything I had been raised to believe. People who could not avoid accepting /what/ I had done but could not understand /why/.”

Leia inclines her head. That’s another question, but one she decided could wait. Perhaps she would get answers to both of them, today.

Another deep breath. There is the impression in the Force of pacing, but still, the man doesn’t move from his seat.

“What I experienced… it was not a vision, though perhaps it would be fair to call it such. It was – as real an experience as any I feel now.” Leia raises her eyebrows.  Hux’s distain for the Force was well known. Hux catches her eyes, and she can tell he’s being honest. Well then.  

A pause, and he swallows. Reflexive, she thinks, but slides a glass of water over regardless. He does not take it.

“I was able to interfere with the course of the war as effectively as I was because I already lived through it before.” He throws this out like a challenge, daring her to believe him or refuse to.

So all she does is nod, once or twice. She manages not to chuckle at the faint disappointment on his face at her lack of reaction.

“I had been wondering if it were something like that.” She gestures vaguely to the space around his head. “Your sense in the Force is… echoed. Yourself, several times.”  It’s interesting to look at, really, the overlay of a half dozen slightly different images, the truth both in the overlap and distributed through all of them.

He crosses his arms, and his frown is almost hilarious. “I see.”

“Did the Order win, that time?” If his victory didn’t bring the satisfaction he expected, then that might explain it…

Hux smiles and the expression is bitter. “Oh, absolutely not. The Order still lost. But it was longer, and uglier, and had a much higher body count. Starkiller was completed, and fired.” There is a ghost of memory, of nearly infinite lives wiped out, enough that her throat closes for a moment. Alderaan? No. Hux’s mouth tightens, something that would be guilt on another man. “It was then destroyed by your fighters, and the Order never recovered.

“Eventually, it was down to the last hold outs. I expected that the Resistance would have orders to take me alive.” Here, he takes a drink of water. The movement feels performative, deliberate. “I decided not to let them.”

Hux pauses here, letting the implications fill the space between. He references his own suicide so casually, she thinks, just as he did their last meeting.

“…and then I awoke, alive and unharmed, though thoroughly sick, on the planet that I had a year before destroyed. The planet which, if the date and time on the computer system were accurate, would /be/ destroyed in less than a half day.” Another sip of water. “It was destroyed, with me on it.”

“…If you don’t mind me asking, how many times?”

“Six. This is my seventh.” A swallow, and another sip to cover it. “Each time, a different place.”

Here, his composure flickers, the things she’s been sensing the Force finally emerging in his expression. She feels the reflected desire for a cigarra, for something to do with his hands. “I lived through every evil and cruelty the Order had to offer, experienced every injustice built into the system and died by my own machinations, by my own hands, again and again.” The Force flickers oddly around his throat and she has the sudden impression that he wasn’t being entirely metaphorical. “I was forced to learn how broken the system I had spent my life supporting truly was; how inefficient, how hypocritical, how selfish and self-serving it was. Every belief I had held about the Order and those who lived in it were systematically stripped from me.”

A pause, and she can feel the weight of memories on him.

“And then I woke up. In my own bed, in my own life, with all the power that I had been denied, and I knew it was my last life. This life.” He gestures with one hand. “I… briefly considered using my knowledge to protect the Order, but found that I could not tolerate the idea of protecting such a broken system.”

Leia tilts her head. Honest, at least.

“From there, well, you know the rest.” He gestures with one hand, and then crosses his arms. “Dameron may insist on treating me like a hero, but at best, I have cleaned up my mistakes.”

Leia thinks of her son, returned to her but wounded in ways modern science struggles to find words for. “In the end, that’s the best any of us can hope for.”  She folds her hands together, smiles in a way signals the meeting is over. “Thank you for explaining. This won’t go on any official record, but if you want to talk about it, well, there are people who can listen.”

Hux snorts, but there’s something relieved in his aura. “Don’t bring Dameron into this. He keeps trying to introduce me to people.”

Leia laughs, and moves to stand. “What, General, can’t handle one pilot?”

Hux puffs up, affronted. Leia’s smiling as she reaches the door, but pauses before leaving. “You should tell my son.” She says, as gently as she can. “If you’re serious about him.”

From behind her, there’s an exhale. “I am.” He says. A moment later, “…I will.”

She nods. That’s enough.

 

 

“Just go talk to him,” Leia had said. “He’s doing much better,” Luke had said.

Han had grumbled, and swore, and still ended up in front of his son’s room – cell – whatever. Only to find out that he’s out with his –friend. Probably the garage, the attendant says.

So now he’s stomping across to the other side of the base, trying not to get stopped by old rebellion fans. He’d gotten sick of that within a month of concordance day.

He makes it to the garage soon enough, and weaves through the half torn apart tie’s until he sees the ‘friend’ half way into a ship, and then looks around for –

There’s his son, sitting on a bench with a cat in his lap, petting it like he’s not sure how, all slow and careful. Han manages to make it over, and meet his son’s eyes.

He’s not sure what to say, and half of him still wants to fuckin’ bolt, but he’s trying to be better. So he just nods, and takes the spot on the bench next to his son.

Ben – he can’t help but think of him that way, no matter what the kid is or isn’t going by now – stares at him with that same too intense stare he always has. His hand pauses on the cat’s ears and it mews.

“Cute cat.” Han finally says. “Yours?”

Ben shakes his head, his hair in front of his eyes like it always was when he was a kid. His grip shifts and the cat turns over, batting at his arm with a metal front paw before jumping down onto the floor with a soft thump.  It rubs up against Ben’s leg for a second, and then pads off in the direction of the tie fighter.

“Luke says you’ve been doing better.” Ben looks away, and shrugs. He’s so damn tall, but he curls up so much he looks a foot shorter. He doesn’t say a thing.

Han pushes his hair back, wishing he had something to smoke, or even something to fidget with, but –

“Look, kid, I. I fucked up with you. I fucked up, a lot.” Han stares across the garage as he says it, because he’s not sure he’d be able to keep talking if he looked over. “And I know apologizing now isn’t gonna fix a damn thing. And if you want to tell me to fuck off, I get it, but I,” He pushes his hair back again. It’s not even long enough to get in his eyes, he just can’t sit still. “If there’s something I can do now, I – I’ll do it.”

He risks a glance over. Ben is still staring at him, still with that wide doe eyed look, and then Ben grabs his wrist, bare skin against bare skin.

Han feels the Force brush against him, and it tastes like ozone and smoke against his brain. Used to freak the hell out of him when Ben did that, when he was little… which, thinking about it, had to have made things worse. Fuck.

“….you mean it.”

Ben’s voice is deeper, scratchy, but at least he’s talking now. Han nods.

“Yeah. I mean it.”

A long moment passes, Ben staring at his own grip around Han’s wrist. The taste of smoke fades and Ben lets go.

“…maybe.” Another shrug. “I’ll… think about it.”

Han nods. Only fair, really.

“Is there a problem?” Han looks up to see Hux, Elusion, whatever he’s going by now, glaring at him with the cat in his arms. Hux glances over to Ben, and something in the corner of his expression softens a little. “Is he giving you trouble?”

Han raises his eyebrows. He’d heard that the only reason Ben has half the freedoms he’s got is because Hux threatened to raise holy hell otherwise. Guess that answers that question.

Ben shakes his head, once, and Hux snorts. Han knows a glare that says “I’m warning you mister” when he sees it, but he also married the queen of it.

“No need to get huffy, Elfwood, we were just chatting.”

A muscle jumps in Hux’s jaw, and Han just manages not to laugh.

“It’s Elusion.”

Next to him, there’s a strangled noise – a second later, Han realizes that it’s the sound of his son, laughing like he’d forgotten how.

“…and you called me pretentious.”

Hux stares, all annoyance wiped off of his face for a split second, before snorting again and adjusting his grip on the cat. “That’s because you are.”

Han smiles, hidden in his jacket. There’s another question answered. Good to know.

Things aren’t okay, but maybe they will be.

 

 

 

Hux settles across the table from them in the Resistance base. The base has become a major hub of reconstruction and integration in the Outer Rim, and they were already known to the Resistance, so it was easy to just stick around, so they did. Besides, Sohpie has been adopted by a dozen techs on top of Kai.

She recognizes him, of course, from the news at least. Turns out he’s just as tall as the pictures suggest, and his posture just as stiff, but there’s something different when (former) General Hux is in front of her. It might be the lack of uniform, but Kaja doesn’t think so.

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Naira glaring and kicks her wife under the table.

“Hello. Can we help you?”

“Am I interrupting?” The question is addressed to Naira, still glaring.

“No, I’m annoyed at you,” Naira says, arms crossed, “Because you decided to sit in prison instead of /working./ Did you think the job was done? That tearing everything down was as far as you had to go?”

Hux doesn’t quail, and he doesn’t look offended either. “I had believed that I had done all that I could, and deserved to face justice for what I was unable to do.” He inclines his head and smirks, though it looks a bit rueful. “I changed my mind when General Organa made that exact argument.”

Hux folds his hands and lets out a deep breath. “I know how to wage a war.” His hands spread, palms up on the table. “I do not know how to build a society. I have only ever learned how to destroy one. I… do not know what aid I can offer you in this. But whatever it is, I will give it.”

Kaja glances over at her wife to find Naira already looking back. Naira is still frowning, but it’s more thought and less suspicion, now.

“You know the computer infrastructure of the Order.” Naira says, her arms crossed. Hux nods. “We’re going to need medical records. Immigration status. Prison records.  Financial records. You know how to get at them, or at least who can. You know how to use the systems that are in place.” 

Hux tilts his head in thought, and then nods. “Very well. I will tell you everything I know.”

 

 

 

It is a new privilege, being allowed to spend the night with Hux, being allowed to doze off wrapped around him, bathing in that ice blue burn.

The first time, the man had dozed off leaning against Hux’s side, feeling safe and relaxed like he couldn’t remember –

-and then woke, Skywalker gently touching his shoulder. The man felt a strange soft wonder blossoming from the touch, and then Skywalker pulled his hand back. The thought of leaving ached, but still the man had shuffled up, away from Hux’s side –

And Skywalker had smiled that small hesitant smile, and told him he was allowed to stay. One night a week, for good behavior.

The man has tried to be good. It is easier, now, when he knows there is a solid place in the fog. It is easier, when there is a promise of a relief from the ache. His mind is healing, Skywalker says.  

Tonight, Hux laid his datapad aside early and smiled at him, kissed him soft and wet. Hands wove in his hair and lips dragged down his neck, but went no further.

The man does not know if Hux expects more from him, but he has not said yet, and that is –

-the man would say yes, he thinks, but he is… glad that Hux has not asked. He is still growing used to it, this shocking intimacy of touch, this slow conflagration of skin. Sometimes he thinks that it must burn Hux too, that his breath scalds against Hux’s skin the same way. It may be longing in him yet. He wants, so much.

So tonight, they sleep, Hux’s arms lose around his stomach. The man floats through the upper layers of Hux’s dreams, watching equations and diagrams and battle plans for a war never fought. They shift against his mind and he smells rain and feels a texture like fur against his fingers – but the colors are leeching out, everything turning white on white on white on –

The man jerks awake a moment before Hux does, just enough time to see the trembling and feel the barely leashed panic, the sensation like digging the force into the open wounds in his mind but he hasn’t done that in weeks -

Hux snaps awake, tension there and forcefully released. Pinprick eyes catch on the man and then away. Hux pushes up from the man’s chest and sits up, breaking any connection. The man feels the lack like a wound.

“I – apologize if you felt any of that.” In the dim light he looks paler than usual. Hux brushes hair out of his eyes and moves to stand. The man grabs the edge of his shirt without thinking. Hux pauses on the edge of the bed, and his eyes fall shut. “…I…please, I need – space, please.”

The man’s hand loosens, and he watches as Hux slips from the bed and picks up his abandoned datapad. His eyes track as Hux paces with the pad in his hand.

“Hux.” The word scrapes out of his mouth, out of his clenched-tight throat, but Hux stops, looks over. The man does not know what he is going to say until – “What happened?” Hux stares, ghostly in the light of the datapad. The man swallows around a sudden thick terror. “Snoke?”

It is the first time he has used his master’s name with knowledge of all it means – he looks at the memory of his master and does not think of comfort and stability but of terror and fear and pain. He hadn’t noticed his master punishing Hux in such a way, but. There were a lot of things he didn’t notice.

Hux blinks, and huffs something like laughter. “No, it is.” He pushes his hair out of his eyes again, and looks at the man for a long moment. The man cannot begin to understand what his face shows at that moment.

Hux sets his pad down, and reaches over, just enough to brush his thumb over the man’s sharp cheekbone. The movement leaves a comet trail of emotion across his skin – grief and pain and the sour aftertaste of fear.

“I should tell you…everything.” A half shrug, almost apologetic. “You may not believe me.”

“Anything.” The man promises, wishes he had the words to express how much he means it. “Anything.” He says again, instead.

Hux half smiles, and the man knows he has been understood. “Thank you.”

 

 

 

It was Spitz's idea, because of course it was. Nova was perfectly happy to let things go, to keep to themselves and troopers they knew, to focus on getting used to being free and being allowed to – be together in ways that she did not yet know the words for.

But Spitz is Spitz and Spitz loves people, loves learning about them in a way she never applied to weapons training no matter how the instructors tried. It makes her happy, and that makes Nova happy, so when Spitz suggests exploring through the base and meeting people, Nova agrees.

They’re barely out of the unofficial stormtrooper area of the base, in one of the common areas where people are allowed to loiter, when two things happen in quick succession – Spitz is distracted and dashes off to say hello to someone, and Nova realizes that General Hux is standing near the wall nearby.

So Nova is now standing alone, with General Hux – with Elusion – and he is not looking away.

"Hello." There's something odd about Hux's face as he says this, but she's still no good at reading expressions.  Other troopers express things differently, more with the body and less with the face. "Do you have a name you prefer?"

Her designation is on her lips, but she bites it back. "Nova." She manages not to add 'sir". "Just Nova, for now."

Hux nods. Nova watches him, and thinks of her hair, growing out for the first time, blue black and wavy, of the tattoo she wants around the blaster scar on her chest she got fighting for the Resistance. It's going to be a super nova, a riot of white-blue and electric purple around the pale skin of the scar. It’s going to be /her/, who she has decided to be.

She thinks about Finn, and choices, and bravery.

"You?" Hux blinks at the question. "Do you want to be Hux or Elusion?"

It's a trooper way of phrasing things, she knows, and immediately regrets it. Officers don’t get it, they never do. But Hux - smiles at her, she's pretty sure that's a smile, even if it’s different from most people’s.

"Hux is fine. Elusion was something I used because it was necessary.” A pause, his expression twisting into a different unfamiliar one. “Hux is the person who made mistakes. So he should be the one to fix them.”

Nova tilts her head, and then nods. She was not owed his reasons, but he gave them anyway, and she will not judge another’s choice of name. His identity was his business.

She hears Spitz, and glances over, instinctually seeking out red-brown hair and skin so much paler than her own, the smile that all the training couldn’t repress. Spitz is smiling, hands flying in clear excitement, deep in conversation with – Dameron, she thinks. Finn’s pilot.

She looks back to Hux, and she thinks she recognizes /that/ expression on his face. She finds herself smiling – slow, stilted, and still feeling like it shouldn’t be allowed. But she does it anyway.

“…if we’re quick, they might not notice us and start introducing us to people.”

Hux smirks, blaster bolt quick. “Good plan.” A pause, and that strange unfamiliar expression passes his face again. “….Nova. If you or the others in your squad need anything… contact me.”

And he’s gone, without a word of explanation.

 

 

 

The man leans against Hux, one arm wrapped around his, hands tangled together. Hux has a datapad in his other hand, working on something for the reconstruction. Engineering project, from the looks of it. Occasionally, Hux will set his datapad down long enough to brush the man’s hair out of his eyes or stroke his cheek, his mind a haze of affection. Then, he will pick the datapad up again and go back to work.

There is a routine to this, now. This is normal, now, accepted. Reliable.

The man leans into Hux’s shoulder and smiles, small and private.

Hux runs a hand through the man’s hair, and the man wants to push up into it like a cat. Instead, he looks up, and wants to bury himself in the clean lines and devotion of Hux’s mind.

“All right, there?” Hux says, and strokes his cheek again. The man closes his eyes, and makes a decision, or speaks one already made. He is still sure of so little, but he is sure of them, and of this.

“….Ren.” The stroking pauses and then starts up again. “Call me Ren, I think.”

Ren feels dry lips against his forehead, curled into a smile. “Very well. Call me Elan.”

**Author's Note:**

> Well, that's that.
> 
> ...I say, with several shorter ficlets set in this timeline in my head. But, no, seriously, the long fics bouncing in my head right now are both full buckets of sadness, and deal with heavy stuff... so there's a pretty good chance I'll pop in with "Poe attempts to socialize Hux" or "Ren gets a therapy dog" when I need a break. 
> 
> Until then, thanks for sticking around!


End file.
